


Memory

by Fierygirl0 (orphan_account)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Androids, Temporary Character Death, minor torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1788382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fierygirl0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I remember what it all feels like. People think I don't, that the memory of who and what I was has been wiped from my mind, but they're wrong. - No pairing, part of my 100 Themes Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory

I remember what it all feels like. People think I don't, that the knowledge of who and what I was has been wiped from my mind, but they're wrong.

I remember pain, watching my own guts slip through my fingers as I desperately tried to stem the flow of blood from a wound far beyond mortal. I remember watching my killer behead the girl I'd been trying to protect, before he cut the piece of technology hidden in her chest out of her corpse. Most of all, I remember a pair of frantic grey eyes looking down at me as I bled out, silently begging me to live just a few seconds longer.

Urahara is a friend of my father's, but they haven't spoken in almost four years. Not since my death. It was Urahara who recruited me out of the military trainees, Urahara who recognized my instinctive talent and pulled me out of basic training for something bigger. Something that would get me killed, as it turned out.

Ostensibly, Urahara runs a military lab working on new weapons, and ways to help humanity win its wars more efficiently. What he'd actually been working on was a way to turn soldiers into true killers. Remove empathy, make hardened special ops units who would follow orders without question, and make decisions based on logic instead of emotion. And he did it.

But Urahara still had some morals left, and after seeing what his first, and only, test subject could and would do without a moment of pause, he scrapped the project. Unfortunately, the technology already existed, and Urahara was too proud of his work and respectful of the effort it had taken his team to destroy it, despite its terrifying results. So he reported that the experiment had been a failure, and he almost got away with it. But one of the generals knew he was lying, or at least suspected it, and attempted to steal the information. He was caught and imprisoned, but it didn't take.

He escaped, taking two of the other generals with him, and turned mercenary. That's about where I came in.

Urahara took me out of training, along with a fair number of others, and I was assigned to guard one of his test subjects, a young girl named Kuchiki Rukia. I didn't know it at the time, but she held an implant containing the secrets of Urahara's project. She had volunteered for a separate experiment, and he had used the opportunity to surgically implant the chip into her collarbone under the guise of the project she had volunteered for. He thought she and the chip would be safe, that Aizen wouldn't dare attack a military compound and that even if he did, he had no way of knowing where the information was hidden.

He underestimated the former general.

Aizen had informants in the lab, one of Urahara's team of scientists, and his attack was brutal and deathly efficient. Our guards, including me, were no match for the battle-hardened mercenaries he'd gathered to himself, even military trained as we were. They tore us apart, with Aizen himself at their head.

I remember all of it.

The fear and desperation when I came face to face with Aizen, the ominous whine of my gun as I pulled the trigger and it failed to fire, the clash of steel as I used my sword – a weapon I'd never had anything but rudimentary training in – to hold the General at bay, while Rukia cowered against the wall behind me, and the burn in my lungs when he threw me against that same wall, knocking the breath out of me. I remember how much stronger he was than me, how much better trained and more experienced. I remember knowing I didn't have a chance.

I died, he won, and Urahara did something that was only legal by the virtue of him being the first to even dream of the technology required.

He recreated me.

He preserved my body, and over the course of eight months he created an android modeled after it. That in itself was completely new, a leap of technology not yet attempted, but not the part that skirted illegality. The android was an exact copy of my physical self, at least on the outside, and he transferred my consciousness into it. I woke, eight months after my death, to the same pair of grey eyes that I had died to. Every memory, every feeling, and every inch of my personality still intact. But I was metal, synthetic in every sense of the word. I was nearly indistinguishable from a human, but I could feel it.

I _knew_ that I was something else.

Urahara thinks I handled it remarkably well, but he has no idea. He doesn't know how close I came to being driven insane by the knowledge that I was no longer human, how difficult it was to adjust to all of my augmented senses and the speed I could think and react. By the time he had explained what I was and what had happened, I had already waged what felt like an hours long battle with myself and come out ahead. Barely.

He only saw the outer portion, to him it was minutes, but his emotions blinded him, and he didn't take into account that I was more or less a computer, and I could process things as fast as one. He had, and has, willfully blinded himself, choosing to believe that I am still just Kurosaki Ichigo, his best friend's son. I am so much more and so much less at the same time.

"Ichigo, are you alright?"

"Fine," I answer automatically, raising my eyes to meet Urahara's. The lie doesn't even make me twitch, not anymore.

No one can know what I truly am. They must believe that I am just an android. The first of my kind, an amazing work of detail and precision, but no more than a computer at heart. If his superiors were to find out what he'd done, the hybrid that I am, it would lose him his job, at least. More likely he would end up in prison, and I would be dissected a thousand times over to find out how I work and how he built me. No good can come of anyone finding out what I am.

Needless to say, I've gotten very good at lying.

Urahara gives me a skeptical look, but thankfully lets it go, giving a tiny shrug. "I'm almost done here, there's just the emotional range test left."

I can't help the flinch.

Urahara always keeps an eye on me, to make sure that I'm still functioning correctly, but every six months he conducts a full examination of all my systems, pushing each to its limit. It's necessary, I know that. There's nothing like me anywhere, not even just the mechanical portion of me, and Urahara has no idea what problems might crop up. But I dread this particular test.

"Fine, just do it."

Urahara prompts me to lie back on the steel operating table I've been sitting on the edge of and I do, doing my best to tune out as the metal restraints close over me. It's not enough to hold me, not if I'm desperate enough, but it will hold under involuntary movement. He brushes my hair away from my neck and then leans away from me to tap a command into the console beside us. I wince as the connection hooked into my right wrist transmits the command, overriding my systems and forcing the port on the right side of my throat to open.

The one in my wrist allows some control, but the one on my neck is hooked directly into the central computer that holds all of 'me'. Through it, Urahara can take direct control of all my systems, turning me into little more than a puppet. I hate it. The other scientists only know of the port in my wrist, and even then, they only know base access codes. Enough to check me over for any basic problems, but nothing more than that. Urahara and I are the only two who know about the port on my neck, and the only ones who know the commands.

He pulls a cable from the console and hooks it into my neck. Instantaneously I can feel the connection hovering in the back of my mind like a ghost, ready to force me to do whatever Urahara commands.

"Ready?" Urahara asks softly, and I can tell by his tone that he doesn't like this either. I give a short nod and he retreats to the console, turning his back to me.

The first command disables my control over my body, rendering me completely immobile. It won't stop everything, some involuntary reaction will still get through, but it's as foolproof as he can make it given my unique nature. I steel myself, listening to Urahara's fingers tap the keyboard and knowing exactly what will occur when he finishes typing in the command to start the test. Physical sensation is first. Pain, pleasure. Then we move on to the insubstantial emotions.

Pain hits, lighting fire across my skin. My body jerks against the restraints, the only part of my mind screaming to move that gets through the wall Urahara has set up. I quickly fall into static, my automated defenses kicking in and simulating the human response to extreme pain, unconsciousness. I come out of the static with an unnecessary gasp, the removal of the pain leaving me sensitive to every brush of air against my skin. I only get a moment of silence before a different kind of fire sweeps over me, eyes flying wide open. A choked moan leaves my lips, the feeling so intense it almost falls back into pain. Tears gather in my eyes, but before they can fall, it resets.

Now comes the worst part.

Fear is first, blanking out my mind and building a scream that freezes in my chest before I can even draw the breath to vocalize it. My body goes rigid, eyes wide, but unseeing. It quickly eases, but before I can relax, the program clicks into the next emotion: grief. I slump, my head falling to the left side as tears slip from my eyes to pool on the metal beneath me. I give a shuddering cry as it recedes, dread springing to life in the brief moment between phases. It's not close to done.

By the time the program finishes, I'm a mess, chest heaving in an utterly human response to the rubber banding of emotions. I don't need to breath, I don't even need air to speak, but the human side of me forces me to breathe anyway.

"Done," Urahara says softly, reaching forward to release me from the steel restraints. Several are bent, the product of my venture into hatred, but they'd held.

I shiver, squeezing my eyes shut and trying not to shy away from the occasional brush of Urahara's fingertips. This isn't his fault, it's _necessary_. He has no idea what would happen to me if I lost the ability to feel the full range of human emotion, and that was his deepest concern upon recreating me. Human emotion is illogical, strange, and delicate, he didn't know if he'd be able to transfer it correctly. The checkup is necessary, to make sure that I don't become any less human than I already am.

"Ichigo?"

I can't restrain the tiny little whine that leaves my throat. I can still feel the interference of the console hovering there in my head, restraining me more than the steel ever did. With as raw and broken as I feel, the sensation is terrifying. It's holding me down, stifling me, trapping me against the steel table at the mercy of _anyone._ I can'tget rid of it, I can't _fight_ it, it won't go!

A strangled cry of fear leaves me, head pinned sideways against the table. Get it _out!_

Urahara whirls around, back to the console, and dimly I hear the furious clack of the keyboard. A moment later I feel the restriction vanish and I jerk upwards, desperately yanking the cable from my neck and flinging it away from me. It hits the ground with a loud crack, and I feel the last vestiges of the ghost leave my mind. I breathe shallowly, quickly, struggling against the panic and remaining utterly still, eyes trained on the cable lying on the clean white floor. It's damaged, I can tell from here. Some of the more delicate hooks on the ends are bent or torn. Urahara will have to fix it before it can be used again.

Slowly, as the fear ebbs and I get what remains under control, I become aware that there's a dull ache on the side of my throat, at the port. Unsurprisingly, the violent removal of the cable damaged both it, and me. It's not a serious injury, it doesn't hurt enough to be, but it will still likely have to be repaired before I can close the protective panel back over it.

"You've hurt yourself," Urahara says softly, and my gaze flicks to him. "May I see?"

His voice is gentle, quiet, specifically designed to soothe and I _know_ that, but it works anyway. I nod, my right hand curling around the edge of the table. He steps toward me, reaching out and brushing careful fingers over the skin around the port. I hold myself still, hand tightening around the table, and close my eyes. This isn't the first time this has happened, Urahara is much better at dealing with me, now, than he had been the first time he'd done this. The emotional range test is always bad, but these days I can mostly handle the backlash.

The first time Urahara put me through this, I broke out of the restraints and nearly snapped his arm before he managed to get his safety phrase out. Up to that point, I didn't know that the safety phrase existed, and it's not something I like to think about even now. It knocks me out, disables all my systems, until he decides to reawaken me. Another one of those things that's _necessary._

I don't hold it against Urahara, not at all. I'm strong enough to bend steel and lift hundreds of pounds of weight despite my size, I _need_ something to control me if I lose it. I could easily kill people without meaning to, without even realizing what I was doing. The strength I have, combined with my human tendency to freak out occasionally, is a bad combination.

"It's not serious, just a couple bent pieces and a twisted wire. I'm going to fix it, alright?"

"Yeah," I manage to say, holding myself still as I hear him step away from me.

It's the work of barely a minute to fix the delicate connections, and I give a tiny shiver as the panel clicks back into place, sealing shut without any visible seam to betray its presence. I'm lucky that Urahara's such an accomplished technician, or I could have ended up looking much less human. As it is, I'm indistinguishable from them. If I wasn't painfully aware every moment that I am something else, _I_ wouldn't even be able to tell by looking. All the panels and pieces I'm comprised of are invisible to the naked eye, I look, feel, sound, and even smell completely human.

"We're all done here, Ichigo. You can go."

I nod, sliding off the table and settling onto my feet. I'm still a little off-balance, edgy and tense from the leftovers of my emotional roller coaster, but a few hours of time alone and I'll be alright.

The console beside us buzzes, and a filtered voice slides through. "Urahara Kisuke? This is the sentry tower. We're getting some weird readings up here, you might want to take a look."

Urahara turns and reaches for the console, hitting a few of the buttons and then holding one down. "Sentry tower, this is Urahara. What do you-"

An explosion rocks the room, flinging Urahara and me to the ground. I recover before he does, and start to stand, when an alarm goes off, driving me to my knees and making me give a shout of surprised pain. It's loud, unbearably so, to my enhanced senses. I clasp my hands over my ears as Urahara staggers to his feet, reaching for the console. I grit my teeth and look up at him, and as he works at the console his eyes widen, and he pales. A second later he practically jumps at me, falling to the ground on his knees and grabbing me by both wrists.

"Ichigo, _listen!_ " he shouts over the alarm, and drags me closer, his mouth going to my left ear.

"Override, Urahara Kisuke, **H-seven-beta**!"

I jerk against him, feeling the intangible ghost of the command presence in the back of my mind. It reaches for me and I give a small cry of panic as I feel it lock steel manacles around some of my processes. My sight dims, and the alarm fades to a bearable, though still loud, volume. Before I can pull back, or ask Urahara what he's done, the door gives a crackle of electricity and slides open with a hiss. Urahara releases me and I turn as I stand, facing the two intruders.

One of them, a large man with shockingly bright blue hair and eyes, says something to his companion – a much smaller, paler, man with jet black hair and green eyes – that I can't hear over the alarm. They're both in formal white military dress, though the blue-haired man has the sleeves of his jacket rolled up, and the front unbuttoned to reveal a black tank-top beneath, while the pale man's uniform is pristine. The blue-haired man grins and approaches me, his eyes promising violence. Sucks to be him, I guess he's got no idea I'm more than a human.

I fall into a fighting stance, vaguely aware of Urahara getting to his feet behind me. "Ichigo, don't-"

I snap a kick at the blue-haired man's side, and instantaneously I know something is _wrong_. I feel slow, well under the speed I know I _should_ be at without even having to try. He blocks my kick almost lazily, and follows up with a punch that impacts against my ribs with all the force of a sledgehammer. I double over in pain, gasping at the crunch of metal I can _feel_ , and he grabs me by the back of the neck and drags me toward him. Before I catch my breath – and I don't know _why_ it's such a struggle, or even why I _am_ breathing – he pulls me back against him, and cool metal presses against the underside of my chin. He releases the back of my neck and wraps that arm around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides. I can hear the whine of the gun powering even under the still blaring alarm, and I freeze in his grasp.

I might be hard to injure – at least under normal circumstances, what the _hell_ is going on?! - but a blast through my head would certainly be one way to do it.

The blue-haired man speaks in my ear, his voice deep and gravelly. "You stay really fucking still, brat, and I won't put a hole through your skull."

The alarm cuts out, everything falling silent, and after a moment the blue-haired man's companion speaks. "Urahara Kisuke, you will surrender to our captivity or the rest of your staff, including this boy, will be executed."

I can't see him, he's still near the door, but I can see Urahara's reaction to the pale man's monotone demand. His jaw tightens, grey eyes narrowing with a hint of anger – something I've _never_ seen on the older man's face – before his mouth abruptly twists in a bitter smile.

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice, hm? Very well." He holds out his hands and the pale man steps into my view, wrapping a pair of stiff cuffs around Urahara's wrists. They click into place and the pale man shoots me a brief glance, green eyes larger than average, but utterly blank.

"Grimmjow, bring him."

We're escorted out, Urahara at gunpoint and me never leaving the grasp of the blue-haired man, Grimmjow. His gun stays pressed against the underside of my jaw, a constant warning against any kind of struggle, and I allow him to manhandle me down the corridors. Not like there's much of a better option right now, not with my strength and speed mysteriously neutered. Whatever command Urahara had hissed in my ear, it must have done this to me. But why? Why make me weak if he knew that people were coming to capture him?

We're dragged to the cafeteria, past blood splatters on the walls and the corpses of a few guards, and the rest of the scientists are already gathered there. They're on their knees in a group, hands on their heads and faces bowed to the ground. Several men, in the same uniforms as the two that had come for us, are standing around the group, guns in hand. We don't get joined to the group. Instead, the pale man instructs Urahara to sit at one of the tables, and cautiously he does so. I stay in Grimmjow's hold.

The pale man steps back and raises his free hand to his left ear. "Sir, all staff, including Urahara Kisuke, are under our control or have been eliminated." There's the crackle of an answer, and he drops his hand from his ear. I can see Urahara's shoulders tense a little bit, grey eyes fixed on the pale man.

It's a few short minutes of silence – disturbed only by the soft sobs of one of the female scientists – before I hear one of the main doors to the cafeteria open, the one directly behind me. The pale man half-turns, head bowing a slight bit in greeting, and respect.

"Good work, Ulquiorra, as always."

I go rigid in Grimmjow's hold, the deep voice ringing _all_ the wrong bells in my memory. No, no, _no._ This can't be happening.

"Kisuke. Miss me, old friend?" The rich chuckle that follows the words is terribly familiar, and fear sends a cold chill up my spine. God, no. Please, no. Urahara shoots me a brief glance, and there's a desperate apology in his eyes.

The owner of the voice steps into sight and I can't help the strangled sound of terror that leaves my throat. Aizen, Aizen Sousuke, the man who'd killed me.

Dark brown eyes turn my way, and after a moment his lips twist into a smirk. "Urahara, you saved the boy? That's an impressive feat. As I recall your medical facilities were destroyed, and the wound I gave him was mortal unless treated, not to mention crippling. How _did_ you do it?"

I breathe shallowly, almost missing Urahara's tight reply. "Not everything was offline. I used some experimental cybernetic enhancements to keep him alive, and to negate your severing of his spine."

He steps closer and I shrink backwards into Grimmjow, uselessly trying to get away.

"I see you remember me, Kurosaki. Glad I left an impression, among other things." He reaches for me, and only the click of the safety being removed on Grimmjow's gun keeps me still as he pops open the snaps on the black shirt I'd been wearing for the emotional range test. His hand brushes against my skin and lingers on my stomach where I know, even though I can't see it from this angle, that there's a thick horizontal scar stretching nearly all the way across my abdomen. My souvenir from his last attack.

I was never totally sure why Urahara had recreated me with it, despite his excuse of a 'visible sign' making it easier for me to accept my death.

"Just feel like stopping by, Sousuke?" Urahara's voice is forcefully cheery, and Aizen moves away from me to stand behind him, one hand coming forward to loosely grip Urahara's right shoulder.

"Oh, you know why I'm here, Kisuke."

"Not a clue," Urahara forces out, and Aizen gives a quiet chuckle.

"Don't pretend ignorance, Kisuke. It doesn't suit someone of your intellect." He steps away, turning to the pale man standing quietly nearby. "Ulquiorra, find suitable cells for Kisuke and Kurosaki, separate please. Kill the rest."

Urahara's head jerks up, grey eyes widening. "No!"

Aizen doesn't even glance back, and the last thing I hear, before Grimmjow's gun impacts with the side of my head, is the blast of gunfire behind us. Then, everything fades out.

* * *

When I come to, I'm lying on a cold metal floor. I don't immediately move, quietly gathering myself and taking the moment of near silence – beyond my own breathing and the gentle hum of electronic systems in the background – to put my thoughts in order.

What, _exactly_ , has Urahara done to me? That's the most important question.

Knowing what he's done to me, what command is important enough to have a voice activation, will tell me _why_ he's done it too. If I'm lucky.

I sink inwards, examining the hundreds of different automatic programs that are constantly running. I reach for the ghostly touch of the command program, silently cataloging what's been affected. To my surprise, and slight fear, I find it in the very core of all my programming. Almost every thread of code branching out from that has been wrapped in the ghostly wires of the command program. It's touching everything, changing _everything_. Outwardly, my jaw clenches, and I take a closer look at some of the individual ones. After a few moments of examining them – there's one that's regulating the rise and fall of my chest, one that's significantly lowered my senses – it clicks with stunning clarity.

Human. The command has made me all but human. But, _why?_

My eyes flick open, and I take a moment to look around before starting to push myself up. I'm in what looks like a standard cell. The floor is grey metal, as are the walls and ceiling, apart from the wall that leads to the corridor, which is some kind of clear material. There's a single, mostly uncomfortable looking, cot in one corner that comes out of the wall, and a handle on the wall in the opposite corner that I would guess pulls out to be a toilet. A single large light in the ceiling illuminates the cell.

I stand, one hand rising to the dull ache on the side of my head. I look through the clear wall, out into the corridor and the other cells. All the ones I can see into are empty, and the corridor is deserted, but I can see small black balls inlaid into the ceilings and walls at regular intervals that are probably cameras.

This clearly isn't the science facility, but then...

I drop to my knees, pressing my hands against the floor, and the tiny vibration of the metal confirms my suspicion. We're in a ship, probably Aizen's, and who knows how deep we are into space at this point. I have no idea how long I've been out, so there's really no way to know.

"Fuck," I voice softly, getting back to my feet.

Movement catches my eye, and I spin around, watching the pale man from before come down the corridor. His boots don't make any noise against the metal floor, though it's entirely possible that the cells are soundproofed. In fact, that's probably the more likely option. He stops to one side of my cell, and draws a gun from a sheath on his right leg with his left hand. He aims it at me before looking over at the side of the cell and raising his right hand. He punches something into what I assume has to be a control pad, like the ones I can see beside the other cells, and after a moment the entire clear wall sinks into the ground.

"Kurosaki," the pale man says quietly, "you will come with me. I should inform you that even if you somehow manage to escape me, every door requires a voice authorization from a crew member, you will not be able to pass. Step out of the cell."

Fuck.

I slowly exit the cell, his gun stays trained on me. The clear wall starts to shut as soon as I'm outside of it, and the pale man drops his hand from the control pad. Ulquiorra motions me forward with his free hand, and I move down the corridor in front of him. We pass seven sets of cells before reaching the door, and a red light clicks on above it.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer," he says behind me, and the red light switches to green. It whirs, sliding into the wall beside it, and at a press of the gun to my back I step through. "The second door on your left," Ulquiorra says, his voice a complete monotone.

The corridor we've exited into is much the same, if much shorter, except there are no cells. Instead, there are regularly spaced doors on each wall, four on each side, with scanners beside them. I move to the one he's indicated, and he leans past me with his gun pressing into my back to press his hand against the pad. It beeps, flashes green, and the door slips open. I step inside without prompting, and freeze again.

There's a table in the center of the room, with Urahara and Aizen sitting on opposite sides. Aizen's gaze turns to me as I enter, and his lips twist in a small smile. Ulquiorra grips my arm and drags me further into the room, his gun a constant presence against my back. About six feet past the table, at the back wall, is a chair, and Ulquiorra leads me to it. He pushes me down, and pulls steel restraints over my arms and legs with one hand. If I dared, if I wasn't human, this would be a great opportunity. But with my strength restrained, I have no idea how taking a gunshot wound would affect me.

No one speaks until Ulquiorra has finished the restraints and quietly exited the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

"Computer," Aizen says softly, "activate shielding in this room."

There's a musical beep, and a blue light that's looks just barely solid comes down around my chair, forming a circle about two feet away. Urahara tenses a little, his eyes narrowing a fraction, and shoots a brief glance at me. His gaze is carefully guarded, blank.

"Now, Kisuke, shall we talk for real?" Aizen's voice is light, friendly, and the smile on his lips is nothing but gentle. "You may be valuable to me, but the boy has none of the same protection."

"What is it you want from me, Sousuke?" Urahara asks with forced cheer, lips twisting in a mocking grin.

Aizen's smile doesn't waver, and I glance between the two of them. I'd known Urahara was a genius, but it hadn't really occurred to me that Aizen was one as well. Maybe not in the same way, he's not a scientist, but he still clearly possesses a level of intelligence beyond a normal person's.

"I'd like to know how to make the technology I stole from you work, Kisuke. I've done some experimentation, but none of it has quite worked the way I know it's meant to. My subjects have flaws, personality defects."

"And you think I ever got it working all the way?" Urahara asks, one eyebrow rising. "You overestimate me, Sousuke. I didn't need to make it work all the way to know I didn't want to finish it."

"Computer, four."

The electricity that slams into me catches me by surprise. I jerk against the chair's restraints, a cry of pain leaving my throat. It hurts, and it makes my limbs twitch, but it's not enough to really do any damage. Yet. It ebbs and I shudder, my eyes falling closed.

"As I said before, Kisuke, pretending ignorance doesn't suit someone of your intelligence. You got it working, I'm fully aware of that, and you will tell me how." I open my eyes, looking back up. Urahara's jaw is clenched, and Aizen is leaning back in his chair. "That chair can be set anywhere from one to ten, depending on my command. Nine will result in unconsciousness, for the average human, and ten will result in death. I have no intention of using either of these. If you allow me to get as high as eight, then I will turn the boy over to Ichimaru. I'm sure you can imagine what will occur then."

"Do you think he means enough to me that I would give you the ability to create an army as deadly as that?" Urahara asks, an edge to his voice.

Ok, yeah. Good point. I don't think I'm worth that much, in fact I'm pretty sure that I would rather die – again – than be the reason that Aizen got an army of that caliber. Urahara's told me some of what his test subject did, I can't even _imagine_ the destruction an entire army of soldiers like that would cause.

"Let's find out. Computer, six."

The jump is more than I expected. The shock drives a scream from my throat, as I writhe within the restraints. Warnings explode inside my mind, systems screaming at me. When it fades I'm left trembling against the chair, my muscles twitching randomly in the after shocks. It's lucky that electricity has the same visual effect as my systems malfunctioning.

"Computer-"

"Stop," Urahara says sharply, and Aizen falls silent. "You'll kill him."

"Please, this level wouldn't drop someone half his size. Unless there's some other reason of course?"

"The cybernetics I used to keep him alive. If you blow out their circuits, which you will if you keep shocking him, he'll die in minutes."

There's a long few moments of silence before Aizen speaks again. "Computer, seven."

I scream again, jerking against the chair at the whim of the electricity coursing through my systems. I can feel parts of me fail, feel circuits fizzle beneath my skin, and quite suddenly the pain cuts out. Oh, well that's handy. My body is still flailing, but I get to watch it do so mostly removed. The command controlling my nerves, and my pain response, has been destroyed.

"Don't lie to me, Kisuke," Aizen says after the shock fades. "A reason, now, or I'll activate the next level."

"He's not human," Urahara says after a moment, his tone resigned. "He's an android. Override, Urahara Kisuke, remove command **H-seven-beta**."

Life surges back into me, and my eyes flick open. I stand, tearing out of the steel restraints with ease, but my left leg buckles beneath me, nothing beyond my knee responding to my commands. I fall to one knee, my hand bracing against the ground, as I look up at Aizen. With my strength back, surging through my fingers, he doesn't seem as terrifying anymore. I snarl at him, eyes narrowed.

"That's interesting," he remarks, looking down at me.

I force myself back up, resting most of my weight on my right leg. I don't need my left leg to rip Aizen's throat out with my bare hands, he couldn't hurt me if he tried, and there's not much of anywhere to run. I start to step forward, and Aizen's smile slips to a smirk.

"Easy, boy." I stop, and he nods upwards. "That shield is reinforced with enough electricity to drop almost any human into at least a few days of unconsciousness. Imagine what it would do to you."

I look around at the circle of blue light, and my hands clench. I can hear the buzz of power from it, now that my augmented senses are back, and that's enough to get me not to test Aizen's word.

"Impressive by itself, he's very human," Aizen comments, his gaze turning back to Urahara, "but he's more than just an android, hm?" Urahara doesn't react as far as I can see, but Aizen gets an immensely satisfied look nonetheless. "You tried to make me think he was human, now why could that be? He could have been very useful against our attack, with that kind of strength. The only thing that really makes sense is that somehow, what you've made in him, is a key to what I want to know."

That time, Urahara's eyes flicker just a little.

What did Aizen say, personality defects in his subjects? I'd imagine one of the most important things to creating an emotionless super soldier would be exactly that, the removal of the emotions. Urahara succeeded in transferring all of my emotions into this shell he made for me, my entire personality, without any major problems. Maybe it's based on the same technology.

Oh, fuck. Barring Urahara's cooperation, maybe Aizen is enough of a genius to take me apart and see _how_ Urahara did it, and how he can reverse engineer it to fix his own problems.

Aizen obviously reaches the same conclusion only a moment after me, which is pretty fucking impressive given that I'm a computer. "He's very _human_ , after all. I guess I don't need your cooperation after all, Urahara."

I can see Urahara's hands clench, under the table, and he shoots a glance at me. It's unreadable, and barely lasts a fraction of a second, but it's enough for me to confirm that what I'm thinking, and what Aizen's thinking, is correct.

My mind clicks into action as Aizen stands, drawing the moment out as my brain makes connections faster than anyone else possibly could. In the end, as he finally straightens up, I've reached a conclusion. No one else should have to fear Aizen the way I do, or die at his hands the way that I did. Urahara can hold out, but my silence isn't my own choice. I can't let him figure it out through me.

I take in an unneeded breath, bracing myself, and step forward as Aizen turns towards me. The electricity of the shield hits me, and thanks to my pain sensors already being offline it doesn't even hurt. I can feel my systems frying, can hear the sizzle and crack of the delicate hardware in me, and I relish in the slight widening of Aizen's eyes, in the fractions of a second before the electricity reaches my core systems, and everything is instantly gone.

* * *

"Ichigo?"

I fade into awareness, my eyes sliding open. It's not what I expect. The world is blurry, not the instant clarity that I'm used to, and it takes me a few blinks to get it to solidify a little. Grey eyes are looking down at me, and I speak without thinking.

"You've gotta stop doin' this," I say, surprised at how slurred my words are. I feel, drugged. Everything is kind of distant, fuzzy, and though I can feel the rest of me I can't seem to summon much more than the strength to keep my eyes halfway open.

The grey eyes brighten a little, and I feel fingers press against my neck. "What's the last thing you remember?" he asks.

"Aizen," I say after a moment, "his ship. Couldn't let him."

Urahara leans back a little, though his fingers stay on my neck, and he gives a soft laugh. "Good, that's right. Do you feel alright?"

"Fuzzy," I answer, "things are blurry." I close my eyes, my brow furrowing a little, and try to reach inwards for my systems. Maybe, I can figure out what's wrong with me.

Nothing's there.

My eyes snap open, my breath catching in my throat. "Urahara?" I ask, unable to completely voice my question.

He smiles, and something in me trembles with hope. "It took a long time, four years, but with some of the leading medical minds I managed to fix what I'd inflicted on you, what I caused." His fingers pull back from my neck, brushing gently over my cheek. "I wasn't ever sure I'd be able to fix you, but I kept your body around just in case. You're human again, Ichigo. Completely."

I freeze, staring upwards, breathing shallowly. "Really?" I ask, my voice small. He smiles, nods, and tears come to my eyes.

"Thank you, _thank you._ "


End file.
